The Pixl Queen
by Shibuya Nobody
Summary: Every action we take leads us to our destiny in one way or another. A fateful encounter brings Timpani face to face with a monster she falls in love with. Underneath his dark exterior, no monster exists. Their love, although beautiful, is fleeting, and the subsequent actions of both Timpani and Blumiere could not only wreck their lives, but those of others caught in the crossfire.
1. A Fateful Fall

The Pixl Queen

A Tragedy

Sun had set on the bleak hills of Mount Noir. Here, in this land, light was fleeting. Aptly named, Mount Noir was shrouded in darkness, obscured from the other lands by a thick veil of fog. Only two subdivisions existed around Mount Noir, a small town where a few dreary residents lived out their days, and a tremendous castle that lay at the foot of the mountain. It was called Castle Bleck.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we? For before Bleck, was Blumiere. This is his story, as it is the story of many others entangled in his tale of woe.

We begin in a village, a fair and radiant town, home to the ancients of the universe. An elite race of shamans, known for their clairvoyant nature and mystical ways dwelled here. Among them, a woman named Merlumina, and her two children.

Merlumina possessed an effortless beauty. The kind that wasn't made up of glamour and glitz, but the kind that was earned. Her beauty was rustic, woven by the dedication of her trade. As a young woman, Merlumina had studied astrology and religion, devoting herself to the divine arts. She became a cultured woman, imbued with a fond appreciation for history. It was this appreciation that built her mind into one of the foremost vessels of thought among the ancients. Her brain and her beauty soon won her a husband, named Merloo.

Together, they delved into ancient ruins, seeking the treasures of old. They were absolutely blissful, devoted to one another in a way that made all the others smile. Another duo, much older, called Merlight and Merlimbis, taught the radiant couple all they knew. Merlight led the ancients in that time, the wisest of them all. His wife, Merlimbis, could see farther into the future than any shaman could before.

These four held the power of time in their hands. The best among the ancients of old, they were privy to the secrets kept by an opposing tribe of much darker shaman than they. Corrupted by an insatiable greed for divine knowledge, these ancients melted into a tribe of darkness. Their offspring were made of the darkness that infected their hearts, and soon, they were no more men than monsters.

In a fit of rage and revenge, one of the dark ancients penned a black volume of misery. Its pages told of a prophecy that would swallow all worlds. Dedicated to fulfilling this prophecy, the members of the tribe soon found themselves worshipping the coming cataclysm. To combat the approaching end, the four ancients penned the Light Prognosticus, the counterpart of the Dark Prognosticus written by the tribe. In all the chaos of light and dark, Merlumina bore a child.

More than one, specifically, she had twins. A boy and a girl. We're more concerned with her children than she, and as they grew, her children became fair and strong. For now, we must pay close attention to her daughter, but the son will become very important in a short matter of time.

One day, in her youthful pride, the daughter walked along the ridge that divided the tribe of ancients, and the tribe of darkness. In a white sundress, she carefully tread the line of danger. She had always been inquisitive, always searching for thrills and excitement. However, on this day, she got more than she bargained for.

Her feet slipped, and she tumbled down the ravine, crying out in pain and anguish. Her dress tore along the many brambles, thorns digging into her skin and drawing droplets of crimson blood, staining her gossamer gown. With a cry and a shriek, she rolled to a stop. Hot tears streamed down her face in a salty flow. She was in much pain, but her pride prevented her from seeming weak.

But someone was nearby. Having gone for a walk himself, a young boy, her age, rushed to her side in alarm.

"Are you alright?" He asked in short, panicked breaths. The girl before him looked wounded, she had just fallen from the top of the gorge. Her dress was tattered, blood and tears staining her.

"I'm fine!" She said in a sharp voice, rising and dusting herself off. She tried to take a step forward, but her knees wobbled.

"No, you're not," he said, his face a dark glow in the morning sun. Shielding her eyes from the sunbeams, the girl looked into his face.

"What's your name?" She asked.

The boy looked stricken.

"Y-you're not afraid of me?" He asked.

"Why would I be afraid of you?" She replied, a quizzical look on her face. "You do not scare me."

"I scare most everyone," he gulped, "We all do."

"You're one of them, aren't you?" She said, able to phrase the statement without making it sound derogatory, "You're a member of the tribe of darkness."

"And you are an ancient," the boy traded observations, "A fair one at that."

"What I need is some help, not flattery," she laughed, a beautiful smile arcing the corners of her mouth. It was captivating.

"Come on then," he held out a hand, which she readily took.

As they walked, he spoke.

"Blumiere," he said.

"Excuse me?" The girl seemed confused.

"You asked my name," he reminded her, "Blumiere."

It was a handsome name. In the rays of the noon sun, he looked rather handsome himself. His dark blue hair, a wavy ocean across his eyes, dangling down in an unkempt manner. He looked free.

"Aren't you going to tell me yours?" He asked.

She did. She told him all about herself on the walk back to his village.

And her name was Timpani.


	2. A Sinister Secret

The Pixl Queen

A Tragedy

In the pale swathes of the plateau where the tribe of ancients dwelled, Timpani sat in the moonlight. Her legs dangled over the wide gorge. She could fall with the slightest sway, perhaps not finding the same fortune she had days before.

It was here she had waited for Blumiere for three nights now. He said he would come back to see her, but so far, his promise had gone unfulfilled. Just about to give up, Timpani made to rise and leave when a snicker echoed throughout the darkness.

"Couldn't stay away from me, huh?"

Rising with a jolt, Timpani almost fell off the cliff. She whirled around, finding herself consumed by a looming shadow.

"Blumiere!" She cried with a smile. Rushing to meet the shadowy teen, Timpani embraced him with a tender hug. Giving up his spooky charade, Blumiere couldn't help but smile. His pearly whites gleamed, looking fluorescent against his dark blue skin.

"I thought you wouldn't show," Timpani said with a look at the ground, sounding downcast.

Grabbing her chin, Blumiere tilted it upwards to face him. He looked into her irises, capturing her figure with one look. She was petite. Her caramel hair snaked down her back in serpentine rivers of curls. Each strand seemed to shine with a different level of light.

"Of course I would show," Blumiere spoke softly.

"Does anyone know you came?" Timpani asked.

"Just Rem," Blumiere laughed, "He's keeping lookout."

"Is Rem the one who bandaged my wounds?" Timpani fired off another question.

"That's the guy," Blumiere replied.

Timpani laced her arms around his chest, drawing in his warmth. Ever since that fateful day, she had been wanting to thank Blumiere. To thank him properly.

"If you hadn't found me," she whispered, "I could've died."

"But I did find you," he said with a light smile, brushing back some of her stray locks and playing with the fabric of his white shirt with the other hand.

"You can't stay for long," Timpani spoke with worry, "I told mother I was just going for a short walk."

"Then short it shall be," Blumiere said, his voice cracking slightly. He made to grab her delicate hand, to kiss her slender fingers in a gesture of kindness as he had before.

But as he looked into those soft, sweet eyes, he couldn't help himself. Drawing her nearer to him, Blumiere placed two starry hands against her face, his dark skin engulfing hers in a blanket of shadow. Pulling her close, he planted a kiss on her lips, melting into her.

She let him take her. His warmth made her spine tingle with newfound sensations of excitement. The kiss lasted for but a few seconds.

"I should go," was all Blumiere said.

"Oh…," Timpani blushed. "Right," she said.

"I'm sorry…if that was a bit soon of me," Blumiere said, making sure to avoid eye contact.

After a few seconds of silence, Timpani replied.

"It was perfect."

Smiling, Blumiere looked at her, noticing how the moonlight caught her fair skin.

"Wait for me?" He asked.

"Always," she smiled.

With those final remarks, Blumiere let himself sink into the shadows. The ancient magic his tribe practiced allowed him to fold into the darkness around him. In moments, he was gone.

Alone, Timpani made to head back to her house. Her white sundress blew gently in the midnight breeze. Her mother would think she had only been out for a walk, and no one would suspect…

"Oh Timpani," a voice cackled, coming from seemingly nowhere.

With a frightful whirl, Timpani looked about.

"Who is it?" Timpani asked, her voice trembling.

"Why it's me!" The voice sharpened into an ear-splitting crescendo, "Your doting brother!"

A figure stepped out of the shadows, bowing slightly. Timpani caught sight of her brother, and she shuddered with a mixture of nervous relief.

"Malvolio," Timpani said, regarding her brother.

"How was your walk?" Malvolio asked, brushing back a lock of curly purple hair.

"Fine…," she answered after a moment's hesitation. It had been fleeting, but she was caught.

"Ah! Is that the burning sensation of lust I feel on the evening air?" Malvolio asked, raising his fingers in triumph.

"It's not lust," Timpani spat defensively.

"Love?"

"You know nothing of love," Timpani said with a glare.

"I may know more than you think," Malvolio spoke with an equally matched glower.

"You saw us?" Timpani asked, changing the subject.

"I saw many things," he snickered.

"Promise you won't tell, Mal," Timpani begged, "Mother and father…they'd never forgive me."

"What is there to gain by sinking my seemingly perfect sister?" Malvolio asked with rhetoric. "Oh," he paused. "Everything."

"I'll tell them of the time you stole Madame Merlar's crystal ball!" She threatened.

"You wouldn't dare," Malvolio snarled.

"Swear by the ancients," Timpani said with vivacity, "Swear by them."

"Fine!" Malvolio cried. "I swear by the ancients I won't tell!"

With a heavy sigh of relief, Timpani spoke.

"Thank you," she breathed. "Can we go home now?"

"After you," he waved a hand in feigned chivalry. The walk home was silent. When they reached the house they shared with their parents, Timpani stopped at the doorway.

"You swore," she said crossly. "No telling."

"My lips are locked," he promised. With another exhalation, Timpani opened the door. Her parents were sleeping, so she and Malvolio had no trouble returning to the room they shared and slipping into bed.

But when Malvolio was sure his sister was sound asleep, he rose noiselessly. Gliding from the room, he stole out into the hall, one objective in mind.

He had a secret to tell.


	3. A Terrible Truth

The Pixl Queen

A Tragedy

The next morning, Timpani awoke in the seemingly silent dwelling she called home. Rising from her bed, the sleepy girl brushed her hair and smiled at herself in the mirror. Instilling herself with the needed confidence to begin the day, Timpani swept out of her room with a graceful alacrity, carrying herself with purpose to the kitchen.

Odd. Father normally had something ready by now. She checked the time. Something was amiss.

"Mother?" Timpani called out, wondering if her parents were around. "Father?"

_Over here…_

"Who said that?" Timpani asked, crying out with a mixture of wonder and fear. "Mal?"

_Hehehe…this way…_

"Quit playing games, Mal! I know it's you!" Timpani cried.

"Fine, fine," Malvolio giggled, appearing from seemingly nowhere. "You ruined my little game."

"Where are mother and father?" Timpani asked, although it sounded more like a demand. She didn't have time to play around with her brother. He always loved games. When things needed to be serious, Malvolio had a penchant to knock down the intensity. He made the simplest things complex riddles or warped little games of his.

"They're in the garden," Malvolio answered innocently. He swayed his shoulders back and forth when he spoke, like a kid fessing up to some silly crime.

With a final exhalation of frustration, Timpani removed herself from the interior of her home and swept out to the garden, where her mother could usually be found. However, it was unusual for her father to walk the garden, as he left the task to his wife.

"Mother, father," Timpani addressed them upon arriving. "Did I miss breakfast?"

Her mother's hand had been wrapped around a rose, tending to its needs. She had been clipping the thorns with a pair of shears, ever so carefully preening the flower. Upon Timpani's voice, she jolted a little, causing her finger to slide down the stem and be cut upon touching a prickly thorn.

She tried to conceal the wound, but Timpani heard her mother gasp in pain. Nonetheless, her mother rose, facing her daughter.

Timpani made to console her mother, feeling guilty, but she held out a hand.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice shaky. "If you're looking for father, he's by the magnolias, you know he's always had a thing for…"

"I'm here," the rough tone of Timpani's father cut off her mother's drivel.

Timpani's breath became shallow. Her mother and father, grace and civility, bore their eyes into her soul. She could tell just by the looks of sheer disappointment on their faces, by the transparent despair they invoked upon their own daughter, that they knew her dark secret. Despite his promises and vows to the celestial bodies above and below, Malvolio had told her secret.

"I…," Timpani tried to speak, but her lips would not form the needed words.

"We raised you right," her father said, his voice an iron wall of might. "We did not raise some gutter rat."

"Boris!" Timpani's mother shrieked.

"Withdraw yourself Eva," Timpani's father, Boris, commanded. "You needn't see the result of this sin."

"She is mine, as she is yours," Evangeline St. Amore spoke. Having come from a line of wealthy ancients, she valued clarity as much as she did grace. She would be present for this. Timpani was her daughter.

"I…I didn't…," Timpani tried, she tried so hard to speak her heart. Nonetheless, her mother and father dismissed her penitence. She had sinned in the eyes of the ancients, desecrated their sacrosanct purity. To mingle with a member of the Tribe of Darkness was more impure than murder itself. The two clans were simply not to intersperse themselves with one another.

"There will be a trial," Boris St. Amore explained. He remained vigilant. Not a single tear rolled down his face. All the while, his wife stood by his side.

"M-mother," Timpani pleaded, turning to the matriarch she had relied on for support in the past. Today, her mother was no such figure. Today, she was an enemy.

"We had such hope," Eva said, her voice cracking in places. "We thought you'd be something. Look at all this potential, Timpani. Look at what you've done."

"No one is hurt!" Timpani implored, desperate to prove her point. "Nothing has transpired. He saved my life! I fell from a cliff and he saved my life!"

Her father seemed unmoved. He repeated himself.

"There will be a trial."

"It's a pity," a voice chirped, rising from behind the family. It was clear and crisp, but instilled with flecks of darkness. The voice, in its ethereal entirety, belonged to Blumiere.

Wheeling around, drawing the honorary sword he kept by his side, Boris St. Amore pointed it at the garden's intruder. At the arrival of Blumiere, Timpani's heart twisted. She was relieved and despaired to see him. His presence only meant confirmation of her sin.

"My good sir," Blumiere gasped. "Do you mean to harm me with that sword, or did you simply get carried away with your dramatic gesture?"

"Be gone, beast," Boris commanded. "Your lechery ends here. Surrender yourself to the ancients or face death."

"It's a pity," Blumiere repeated, shaking his head. In one swift movement, he parted his hands, summoning a ravine in the garden. A tremendous quake gripped the sanctuary, causing Eva and Timpani to falter and stumble to the ground. Boris St. Amore stood resilient, his eyes full of disgust and malice.

"You're the one who has soiled my daughter," Boris said. "You have ruined our family!"

"If there is to be a trial," Blumiere explained, ignoring Boris' speech, "you'll have to have two. Your delirious mental case of a son swore by the ancients to your daughter he would speak not of our relationship. It is plain to see, he broke that vow."

"You are no judge of my son!" Boris yelled, charging the dark man with his sword. Left with no choice, Blumiere split himself into a league of shadows, reforming behind the esteemed man. With dexterity, he grabbed the man's shoulder and turned him about, snatching the hilt of the sword and withdrawing it to cut the man's knee.

"Agh!" Boris screamed, cerise stains dripping upon the white marble of the garden. Blumiere raised the sword, aiming to finish Timpani's father while mother and daughter screamed in agony. However, before Blumiere could deliver the final stroke, a brilliant beam of light descended upon the garden.

The ancients had intervened, and judgment was upon them.


End file.
